The Hangover: QAF Style
by clawswrites
Summary: Brian organises a trip to Vegas to celebrate Lindsey's last weekend before she gets married to her partner of six years, Melanie. It's a trip to remember...it's too bad they can't...Rewrite of the movie 'The Hangover' with QAF tendencies and twists. AU.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer:**** All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.**

**Chapter One**

"Are you sure you'll be okay?" Lindsey questioned worriedly, "I mean, what with taking care of Gus, and going over the final plans for the ceremony. I can always call Brian and cancel – it's not too late…"

Melanie rolled her eyes as she lifted two-year-old Gus from his highchair. She hugged him to her chest and rubbed his back with soothing circles, encouraging him to burp, before she sat him back in his highchair. She wiped his mouth carefully.

"Linds, seriously, stop worrying so much," She chided, her tone light as if it could ease her partner's concern, "I can handle the final details and I can take care of our son. Now go and have fun, even if it is with Brian Kinney."

It was no secret that there was no love between Brian and Melanie – in fact they could barely stand to be the same room as each other for more than a few minutes before someone (and they take it in turns) throws an insult – something that had annoyed Lindsey for years. Now they both had something in common: Gus, who Brian had fathered for the couple, and Lindsey was more determined than ever to get the two adults to get along.

So far, her efforts had been futile.

Lindsey slapped her fiancée playfully. "Hey, it was incredibly nice of Brian to organise this weekend for me. I mean, he didn't have to – I can only imagine how much this is all costing him…"

"He's probably using this as another excuse to fuck his way through another state's gay population," Melanie muttered darkly.

Lindsey didn't get the chance to do anything more than shoot a disapproving gaze at the women, before a knock called her to answer the front door. As expected, Brian Kinney filled the doorway, and shot her a cocky smile as he removed his aviators.

"You ready to celebrate your last few days a single and eligible muncher?" Brian teased as he stepped into the house, glancing around for a moment, "Now where's my son?"

"_Our_ son," Melanie corrected with a small, relatively civil smile, as she walked into the hallway holding Gus on her hip.

Brian chose not to say anything and simply lifted the child from his Mama's arms. He grinned up at Gus and he held him in the air, causing the boy to giggle and kick his legs, before he was settled into his Daddy's arms comfortably.

"Da!" he cried out happily, clapping his hands.

"Hello Sonny Boy, you're bigger than I remember. What are your mothers feeding you?" Brian wiped his finger across his son's cheek where food had stayed, and sniffed his finger. He wrinkled his nose. "Gross, tomatoes. I hate tomatoes." He carefully wiped the crud on the bib that had yet to be removed, "Your Mum and I have to go now – we're going to Las Vegas to mourn the days before marriage. I'll bring you back something…maybe a deck of cards…"

Melanie just gave him a blank look. "Please don't."

Lindsey glanced between the three important people in her life nervously for a moment, not wanting this to escalate into a full-scale argument, which it probably would. "Didn't you say we have to go Brian?" she quickly interjected, "Why don't you go wait in the Jeep while I get my stuff and say my goodbyes?"

Brian gave her a charming smile. "Whatever you say,"

He raised his child slightly and pressed a kiss to his cheek. Gus laughed happily and repeated the word "Da!" before mimicking his father's action by giving him a return kiss on the chin. He handed the toddler over to Lindsey before he left the house.

Lindsey shifted Gus in her arms so she could smile down at her baby boy. "Oh, I'm going to miss you," she cooed, "I haven't been without you for more than a night since you were born. Now I'm not going to be there for a whole weekend. It's going to be so weird without you."

"You'll be fine," Melanie assured with a smile (a real one this time).

"I know," Lindsey admitted with a small sigh, before she pressed a kiss to Gus' temple and hugging him extra tight. "Bye-bye Gussy. I'll be back in a few days. Be good for Mama for me, okay?"

"Kay, Mu'," Gus nodded in that childish determined way that was oh-so-adorable on him, especially accompanied by his broken speech.

She smiled before turning her attention to Melanie. "Promise you'll let me know if anything happens?"

Melanie cupped her partner's cheeks gently and looked her firmly, directly, in the eyes to show the certainty of the answer. "Lindsey, nothing is going to happen while you're gone. It's only for a few days, the weekend, not a whole month – not even a whole week! You need to stop worrying over nothing. Just go to Las Vegas and have some fun. Relax a bit – God knows you need it with all the work you've been doing between the wedding and work and Gus. It's my turn to do that now." She leant forward and drew her into a chaste kiss that lingered, "Now, you need to leave in Brian's Jeep, pick up the boys, and catch that plane to Nevada, okay?"

Lindsey smiled softly at the words, feeling a little more at ease than she was a few moments ago but not completely. She didn't know why she was so worried about everything – if Mel was in charge; she knew that everything would do perfectly. Melanie was always organised and well prepared, just as she always knew what to say to make everything seem less gigantic.

"Call me when you're plane lands," Melanie ordered, a small smile on her face, as she accepted her son into her arms, resting him easily on her hip, and Lindsey moved to pick up her duffel bag that had been placed in the entrance. She slung the bag over her shoulder, flipping her hair out of the way from being caught under the thick strap, and promised to call. The two barely had time to share one more goodbye kiss before a sharp and persistent honk of a car announced it was time to go.

Melanie huffed, but didn't say anything. Lindsey smiled at her knowingly and smoothed down the edges of her son's hair for a moment before she left.

**QAFSTYLETHEHANGOVER**

Michael searched through the bathroom cabinets for the new toiletries set he had bought especially for that weekend, haphazardly moving bottles of oils and moisturisers out of the way. He cursed loudly, slamming the door shut.

"David, have you seen that bag? You know, with my new toothbrush, toothpaste…" He listed off as he left the bathroom.

David, who was sitting up comfortably in his place on their bed, looked up from his newspaper. "Cotton flannel and face scrub?" he added, "I packed it for you yesterday."

Michael paused in his step. "You…packed it? When?"

"Uh, oh, it must have been when you went out food shopping yesterday," David shrugged.

Michael rummaged through his duffel bag; half packed with clothes, and came up with nothing of that variety. He rocked back on his heels. "Where'd you pack it?"

"In the suitcase,"

"I told you," the annoyed tone that Michael used suggested he was tired of the conversation they were having. He stood up, approached the damn suitcase and unceremoniously began removing the items that had been put away, "I'm not using the suitcase – it's too big. I'm only going for the weekend. I'd rather use the duffel bag."

David sighed. "Your clothes will get wrinkled."

"It's fine honestly," he assured as he carefully placed the toiletries bag, some changes of underwear and sun screen. He purposely ignored the lavender body spray and swimming costume – he was going to Las Vegas to get drunk and celebrate, not go swimming, so what was the point?

David watched his partner for a minute before standing up and joining Michael, helping him to his feet. He brushed his hand over his spiky hair, changing its styled position ever so slightly, and readjusted the strap of the duffel bag when it was slung over his shoulder.

"Remember to call," he reminded softly, leaning closer to kiss him gently.

Michael smiled. "I will, promise."

"Good boy," David grinned.

There was a car horn heard somewhere close by. "Mickey!" Another honk of the horn, "Mikey! Finish sucking off the dear old doctor and get your ass out here – we have a plane to catch!"

"…And that would be Brian," David muttered darkly as he released Michael from his grip and left the room, probably to have a staring (or glaring) competition with Brian from the doorstep.

He shook his head in defeat. He had long since given up with those two. Michael made to leave the room before he hesitated. He glanced towards the bedside cabinet on his side of the bed thoughtfully. With only a second of time to spare, he quickly opened the drawer and grabbed a wad of slightly crumbled paper, letters that had been attached together with an elastic band. He quickly stuffed it into the inside pocket of his jacket. He made sure they were hidden and the drawer securely shut, just like before, and left the room to join his friends on the doorstep where the weekend of a lifetime would begin.

**QAFSTYLETHEHANGOVER**

"Do you think I'll need a jumper?" Ted wondered aloud. He was stood in front of his wardrobe, shielded by the two open doors, and staring at a striped jumper on a hanger with some thought.

Emmett laughed. "Teddy, we're going to Nevada. You know, where it's hot? I don't think you're going to need a jumper."

It seemed that the weeks previous had not been enough for either Ted or Emmett, considering the last minute packing they were doing three hours before they have to catch their flight. Neither of them had ever been to Las Vegas before, so they wanted to be prepared for everything and anything that could happen.

Ted frowned slightly. "It could rain?"

"A jumper won't do much good in the rain," Emmett answered with a smile, "Anyway, its Nevada, in the summer. It's not going to rain."

"Fine," he reluctantly agreed, putting the item of clothing back. "What about a coat?"

Emmett gave his friend a look that clearly said "must I repeat myself".

"Right, so that's a 'no' on the coat then…" Ted muttered to himself.

"What do you think: red or black leather?" Emmett questioned, holding the two pairs of trousers in the air and regarding them closely, deep in thought.

"Red. Suits you better," Ted instructed helpfully. He closed the wardrobe doors, deciding he'd given up searching for anything else he might need, and turned towards his friend, pausing in step as he saw the collection of packed bags. "Fuck Em, we're only going for the weekend. Do you need so many bags?"

"Of course sweetie, it's only the essentials," Emmett argued. At Ted's disbelieving look, he relented a light. "Okay, essentials plus back-ups, but you never know what you might need a costume change."

"I know it won't be this weekend. With Brian in charge, and paying for the room, I doubt we'll be stepping foot inside the hotel room to get anything, let alone a 'costume change', unless we want to subject ourselves to Brian Kinney balls deep in some twink." Ted retorted dryly, "Leave the back-ups."

Begrudgingly, Emmett agreed.

"Can I at least bring my purple sunglasses?" He pressed.

"You mean the ones that cause fires?" Ted looked thoughtful for a moment before shrugging, "Sure, why not?"

"Excellent!" Emmett cheered as he searched through one of his 'back-up' bags and pulled out the large sunglasses. They were covered in glitter and feathers, completely over the top, but designed on something that Elton John had worn at one of his concerts. And, in all the time his friends had known Emmett Honeycutt, nothing was ever just _simple_.

Ted was turning off lights in the apartment when the phone rang. He picked up, putting the phone between his ear and shoulder, and continued turning appliances, and lights, off around the building. "Hello?"

"Theodore, before I die of old age, could you and the queen get your asses down here?" Brian's voice came over the speaker, followed by two loud scolds – probably Michael and Lindsey, Ted concluded – of objection, and the dial tone. He rolled his eyes and clicked the phone back on the stand.

Emmett glanced over his shoulder as he stood up and slung the two bags over either shoulder. "Who was that?"

"Brian."

"Is His Majesty angsty?" Emmett teased.

"Something like that," Ted rolled his eyes, "You ready?"

"As I'll ever be," He grinned happily at his friend and made his way out the door. He raised his arms in a celebratory, victory pose, "Vegas, here was come!"


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer:**** All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.**

**Chapter Two**

'_Welcome to American Airlines. The captain would like to ask all passengers to return to their seats. We are about to take off.'_

Michael dropped heavily down in the seat beside his friend, grinning happily. Brian tilted his head slightly and cracked his eye open to watch his friend. He sighed, shifting in his seat.

"What do you want Mikey?" he groused.

"Nothing…"

"So why do you have that annoying smile on your face?"

"Because this is fucking amazing - leg room, unlimited bar, a fully cooked meal…Jesus Brian, this must have cost you a fucking fortune."

He groaned. "Only a small one," before Michael to open his mouth to, most likely, argue that they could have paid for their fair share of the flights and hotel, when Brian continued, "Look don't worry about it Mikey. Just…have fun, and let me sleep."

"Sleep?" Michael arched an eyebrow.

"Of course – I'm going to need all my energy for tonight. I can't disappoint the men of Las Vegas, can I?" Brian smirked.

"Alright, whatever," Michael laughed, "Just don't leave us in the middle of the Giza Strip when you use the car to take some horny trick to the hotel, alright?"

"No promises," Brian closed his eyes, slouching slightly in his seat and stretching his legs out, before he put earphones in to block out the noise of the ascending plane. Michael watched his friend for a moment longer, before shaking his head and relaxing back against the cushions, that silly grin stayed on his face.

**THEHANGOVERQAFSTYLE**

"God, this amazing," Emmett moaned for what had to be the fifteenth time since he'd been introduced to _Red Square_. His four companions just looked on in amusement. He took another sip of the liquid and made another noise of pleasure, "Tell me again what this is?"

Lindsey smiled, amused by the flamboyant man's reaction. "Red Bull and Vodka."

"Why has no one told me about this before?"

"Um, because you hate energy drinks?" Ted suggested.

"Who hates energy drinks?" Michael wondered as he returned to his seat and peered over the back to see where the three others were sitting.

"Michael, you have to try this," Emmett insisted forcefully, his arm shooting out to shove the glass under the unsuspecting comic book lover's nose. Some of the alcohol sloshed over the rim of the glass at the quick movements. He switched hands to lick the fallen liquid from his hand.

Michael jerked his head back at the sudden movement. "Try what?"

"Red Square – it's like heaven in a glass. I feel so pumped, it's so addicting. You have to try it. Go on, try it, try it!" he pressed, grinning manically.

Ted carefully took the glass away from his friend, "Okay, no more for you."

Emmett looked confused. "What do you mean no more? I've only had-"

"Nine," Lindsey supplied.

"No – it can't be that…"

"Nine," Ted interrupted.

"No…really?"

"Nine!" Brian called from his seat, not once moving from position, but still well aware of the chaos that was going on behind him. It was loud enough at least.

"Oh…well, maybe I should stop for awhile…" Emmett conceded lamely.

"Agreed," Ted nodded and finished off the rest of the drink quickly.

"Well, at least we know what happens when Emmett has energy drinks…" Michael pointed out with a smirk.

Emmett stuck his tongue out childishly in objection.

Brian opened his eyes and smirked. "Isn't that immature, even for you Honeycutt?"

"Don't call me Honeycutt," Emmett retorted, kicking the back of his chair.

Brian smirked, amused but not about to admit it, by his friend's hyperactive antics. He got the distinct feeling someone was watching him and raised his gaze over the top of the chair in front of him. The steward, a tanned brunet, eyed him appreciatively as he continued his job of pouring generous amounts of champagne into small plastic glasses. Brian arched his eyebrow interested. The steward inclined his head towards the bathroom. Smirking, he stood up from his place and stretched, making to move past his friend.

"Where are you going?" Michael asked, eyed him curiously.

Brian gave him a wicked smile. "Well, it seems I have found _something_ that requires my _immediate_ concentration."

"20 fucking minutes into the flight and he's already getting laid," Michael laughed.

"…I give him ten minutes," Ted piped up.

"Ted," Lindsey scolded, "It takes at least 15 minutes for Brian to work that Kinney bedroom charm."

"If we're all making bets, I say 12 minutes." Emmett added.

Michael hesitated for a moment. "Fine, I say 17."

**THEHANGOVERQAFSTYLE**

"The flight was amazing – first class is much better than I thought it would be," Lindsey gushed. Her mobile was comfortably situated between her ear and shoulder as she used her hands to happily count her winnings. She wasn't one to bet about her friend's sex life but if she won, she wasn't sure whether she was doing to allow herself to care at the moment. After all, she was told to relax.

Melanie laughed. "I'm glad you had fun. You on your way to the hotel?"

She hummed. "We're in the lobby actually. Brian's checking us in. Apparently, he booked one of the villas."

"Well, enjoy it while it lasts – no doubt he'll take over the room with a line of tricks."

"Just because he can't hear you, doesn't mean you can insult him," Lindsey scolded.

"Yeah, yeah," Melanie waved it off.

"Hows Gus?" Lindsey continued.

"Asleep, finally. He wanted to stay up to talk to you but he's tired himself out today."

"Aww, tell him I love you from me once he wakes up." She cooed.

"Promise. Do you know what time you're getting back?"

"I don't actually," Lindsey glanced towards Brian, who was still at the check-in desk, "I'll call you and let you know."

"Okay sweetie, have fun and remember to relax," Melanie teased.

She rolled her eyes. "You've told me. Goodnight. Love you."

"Goodnight. Love you too."

**THEHANGOVERQAFSTYLE**

The villa was amazing. It was bigger than the Loft, with five bedrooms branching out from the main room. There were two bathrooms, built between two bedrooms. The floors were made of black marble and the furniture specially made for that hotel suite. Each bedroom had a double bed, covered in silk sheets and a mountain of pillows. White faux mats were in every room. In the main room, a small fire place sat in the centre of the room. Leather recliners and sofas surrounded it and almost resembled a camp fire. The wall was made of glass and over looked the bright lights of Las Vegas.

"Thank you Brian," Lindsey grinned, managing to tear her eyes away from the brilliant view to accept a glass of champagne – complimentary to the room, "This place is just…"

"Fan-fucking-tastic?" Emmett supplied.

Lindsey laughed. "Yeah - fan-fucking-tastic."

Brian relaxed into one of the recliners and raised his glass in a toast, before tipping it back. "All for you, Wendy." He paused for a moment, staring at his empty glass, before glancing towards Ted, "Did you get what I asked you for?"

"In my bag," he nodded.

"Well, go get it," Brian waved at him dismissively.

Ted rolled his eyes but complied, coming back with a small transparent bag, chucking it at Brian. He caught them in his lap and raised them into his line of sight, staring at them closely.

"What is it?" Michael wondered.

"What's my favourite letter, Mikey?" Brian teased, grinning.

He rolled his eyes. "Right…forget I asked…"

Without anymore questioning, he accepted the pill in a kiss, as per usual.

Lindsey watched the bag pass around uneasily. "Um…I'm not too sure…"

"Come on Linds, this is your last chance before become a Stepford wife," Brian encouraged.

"You are supposed to relax," Emmett reminded, "Don't worry. We take good shit from a good place."

"I'm well aware with that. You're all too body conscious to take something that will screw you up," Lindsey gave them each a droll look before taking the pill, washing it down with champagne, "I haven't done that since college."

"Ah, the wonders of our miss spent youth," Brian sighed, smirking, as he refilled his glass.

Emmett sat up straight, and raised his glass. "I would like to propose a toast – to Lindsey and Melanie, and to a long and happy marriage."

"Agreed," Michael and Ted echoed.

Brian snorted, but remained silent, knocking back his drink quickly.

"To a night we'll never forget," Lindsey added with a small smile.


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer:**** All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.**

**Chapter Three**

Pain exploded behind his eyes the second sleep began to leave him. Brain winced, his eyes twitching, but remaining stubbornly closed. He grasped his covers, holding them to his body and rolled into the pillow that was laid out beside him. The movement caused a painful objection and he groaned in response. He'd had hangovers before, more than he could count, so he was no stranger to the prolonged pain of a night of too much Beam, but _fuck_ this was ridiculous.

With some reluctance, he sat up and held his head, wincing at the movement, and planned to call for some aspirin. He peered at the room through squinting eyes, and nearly went into cardiac arrest on the spot.

The villa was _trashed_. Sofas had been ripped up, the cushioning spread across various parts of the hotel room and knocked onto there backs – one of the recliners had no legs at all. Broken bottles and condom wrappers were buried in the ashes of the fire place catching the rays of sunlight that shone through the window, where the curtain had been yanked down. Bedroom doors were wide open, trails of silk sheets, pillows (some without their cases) and mattresses made there way into the living room. One of the bathroom doors had been pulled off its hinges and a small puddle of water was leading out of it.

There was only one thing Brian could say: "_Shit!_"

He stood up quickly, despite the massive explosion of agony in his head, and gazed around, wide eyed and disbelieving. He stepped off the makeshift bed close to the door and kicked Michael awake as he moved further into the room to access the extensive damage.

Michael was sleeping against one of the overturned sofas and groaned in annoyance (and pain) at the insistent kicking. He tried to roll away, into the softness of his bed, and frowned when all he found was cold, hard marble.

"Get the fuck up Mikey," Brain ordered firmly, a hint of panic seeping into his voice.

Michael cracked one eye open. "Brian...what's wrong?" he sat up too quickly and clutched his head, "Ah fuck, that hurt!"

"What's wrong? What's wrong?" he repeated bitterly, "It's this room – that's what's fucking wrong!"

"What are you talking..." Michael trailed off, his mouth agape as he glanced around the now totalled room. "Shit...what the fuck happened here?"

"No fucking clue," Brian answered, running his hand through his hair, "They have my card on file downstairs...fuck!"

Both men winced when they heard a resounding thump that echoed loudly through their heads. They saw pillows being moved and sheets slipping as a half-dazed Emmett stumbled out of one of the bedrooms. He held out his hands to steady himself and glanced around the room.

"...What the fuck happened in here?"

"Now that's the million dollar question, isn't it?" Brian paused for a minute. "Did you get into a fight or something, Honeycutt? You look terrible."

Emmett, not even objecting to the use of his last name, raised a hand to his face and winced instantly at the feathered touch. He cursed loudly.

Michael scratched the back of his neck, a pained expression on his face. "Oh man, I can't remember anything from last night – expect did we drink champagne?"

"Yeah, me neither," Brian admitted, frustrated, before cursing once more.

"Where's Teddy?" Emmett wondered aloud, his eyebrows furrowed together in concern and confusion, "and Lindsey?"

"...I have no fucking clue," Brian answered.

"They have to be somewhere in this mess," Michael reasoned.

With a mutual groan of exasperation, the three men took (careful and hesitant) steps to different crevasse of the room, gingerly moving pillows and curtains in their search.

Emmett waddled through the cold, puddle of water to peer into the bathroom searchingly. The shower curtain had been pulled from the rail and was now covering a slumped form. Ted was pushed against one side of the ceramic bath, facing away from Emmett, and there was no indication he was waking up anytime soon. For one fearful, over-dramatic movement, the flamboyant man thought his friend was dead – until he snored loudly and curled up, drawing his knees to just under his chin.

Emmett let out a breath of relief before calling out "I found Ted", and approaching the bathtub. He gently shook the men's arched shoulder, trying for a softer wake-up call than any of the others received.

"Teddy, sweetie...time to get up now..." he softly encouraged, shaking him persistently. His friend groaned in objection but did not move. He swallowed nervously, a sense of panic in his voice as he started to come out of his sleep-induced daze and realised how little he remembered of the night before. "Come on Ted, time to wake up!"

"What the fuck happened to the shower curtain?" Brian wondered.

"Maybe Ted knows," Michael answered hopefully, ducking under Brian's arm that was positioned on the door frame, "Is he awake yet?"

"He will be," Emmett assured before he violently returned to shaking his closest friend awake, suddenly desperate to know what had happened – if he could remember anything at all.

"All right...all right!" Ted's voice broke the silence. It was quiet at first but seemed to increase in volume as he returned from the land of dreams. He began to turn in his place so he could face the rest of the room, "I'm up now...you can relax..."

Emmett's eyes widened in shock, both his hands moving to cover his mouth. Michael gapped at him, unable to move or speak. Brian simple burst out laughing.

Ted looked around him in confusion. "Why am I in a bath tub? Why am I in my underwear?" he looked up at his friends, "What are you looking at? Is there something on my face?"

"You could say that Theodore," Brian chuckled, feeling lighter than he had before.

Ted moved shakily onto his own two feet and Michael recovered enough to help his friend out of the bath so he didn't slip. He stumbled out of the comic lover's grasp and made his way over to the bathroom mirror (probably the only thing that remained untouched).

"Holy shit!" he cursed loudly.

In a thick, inked line, a tribal pattern swirled around his right eye. It framed the dark brown of his eyes perfectly. The edges closest to his eye were soft curves, becoming sharp and jagged the further away it was. Ted let out an unmanly squeak of panic and began running water, frantically pawing at his flesh almost desperately.

"This is a real tattoo!" he cried out, his eyes wide as he turned back to his friends, "A real _fucking tattoo_! What the fuck happened?"

Brian sighed and ran his hands through his hair. "I don't know. I can't remember anything from last night..."

"Can you?" Emmett asked hopefully.

"Well, obviously not," Ted snapped.

"Okay, all of us are fucking clueless," Michael interrupted, stopping any further arguments, "S where is Lindsey?"

"You guys didn't fin her?" Emmett questioned, straightening up and looking worried.

"Nope...I have no idea where she is," Michael answered with a sigh.

"Have you tried calling her cell?" Ted suggested.

"Yeah, it just went straight to voice mail."

"Okay, everyone needs to relax. Lindsey's a big girl – she can take care of herself. She probably went down for breakfast or something." Brian paused to eye Ted, "Find some trousers Theodore, and let's go."

The four men scrambled over piles of broken furniture and bedding, stopping every once and awhile when a shoe or a pair of trousers was found. They had just made it on the stable ground by the main door when Michael paused, glancing around him confused.

"Did you guys hear that?" he wondered.

"Hear what?"

Somewhere in the distance, a muffled cry was heard.

"So what? Someone in the hotel has a baby?" Brian shrugged, "We have to find Lindsey."

"I'm not so sure..."

Michael had an absent-minded look on his face as he slowly made his way over to what once was a kitchen. He stood up in front of the cabinets, listening, before he opened out of the doors.

"...Holy shit, there's a baby in here..."

"Excuse me, there's a what?" Emmett gapped.

Carefully, Michael reached up and removed a baby carrier – and a baby – from within the confines. The child whimpered quietly, staring up at Michael with wide dark eyes.

"There was a baby in a cabinet..." Ted repeated, "How the fuck did we get a baby?"

"We are so going to Vegas jail," Emmett fanned himself, seeming to be on the verge of hyperventilation.

Brian leant against a wall for support.

**THEHANGOVERQAFSTYLE**

"Come on, just eat the baby food," Michael desperately tried to encourage the child to take a bite, the spoon remained poised in the air with a generous helping of sludge that was supposed to be apricots and baby rice.

It took all of five minutes to calm down about finding a possible missing child in their villa and to make their way down to the breakfast buffet. Emmett decided to ask around the hotel to find out if anyone had seen Lindsey whilst Brian charmed some food for the baby - now dubbed Jim, by Brian – from some unsuspecting waitress.

"Look, its good for you," Michael ate the food himself and had to fight a grimace, "Now I know why they feed this shit to people who can't talk..."

"You could try pretending the spoon's an aeroplane or a rocket ship or something?" Ted suggested, amused, his hand conveniently placed over the design inked onto his skin.

Michael looked unconvinced. "Do you really think that would work?"

"Rocket ship always worked with Gus," Brian shrugged, "Why not?"

He still seemed unconvinced for a moment before sighing in defeat. Raising another spoonful to Jim's mouth, he said loudly "here comes the rocket" and made over exaggerated engine noises, doing a figure of eight with the spoon. Jim laughed, opening his mouth willingly for food. Michael beamed proudly.

Emmett dropped with a huff into the free chair, an expression of reassignment on his bruised face. "I've looked everywhere. Lobby, Pool, Reception, the kitchen's, even that security booth we past. No one has seen or heard about anyone fitting Lindsey's description." He groaned, "We are so fucking screwed..."

"Where could she have gone?" Michael wondered, concerned for his friend. A look of panic came to his face, his skin paling, "What the hell are we supposed to tell Mel?"

"Okay, everyone needs to calm down..." Brian instructed firmly.

"Ah, why don't we try retracing our steps?" Ted suggested.

"That would be great Teddy, except we can't remember anything from last night, let alone where to start," Emmett countered.

"Ah, um, check your pockets. Maybe we'll find some kind of clue," he continued, as he began to frantically pat down his pockets.

"For once those detective television shows have paid off for you, Theodore," Brain snarked with a grin, complying with the request. As he pulled out random things from his pockets, he placed them on the table surface in front of him. "Ah, I have a…condom wrapper, condom wrapper, ah, _another_ condom wrapper, and a card for some place called Boy Toy – apparently, we went to a strip club gentlemen."

"I have a, ah, receipt for the Hard Rock Café, it says we were there at midnight last night."

"I have a card for a casino called, um, Weeping Dragon, and a couple of coupons off sex toys from any local 'Vibrate' store."

"I have a receipt from the hotel saying we arrived at 5:55am."

"Shit, we drove last night?" Brian cursed.

Emmett groaned and raised a hand to run through his short hair. Ted's eyes flashed in recognition for a second before he reached out, grasping his friend's wrist just as it was being brought back down to rest on the table. He peered at it curiously.

"You were in hospital," he stated.

"What?"

"Are you okay?" Michael questioned.

"Yes, I'm fine," Emmett snapped before standing up, spinning on his heel and walking away in his customary overdramatic fashion.

"Hey, where are you going?"

"To, um, Allegheny Hospital," Emmett called, reading from the band on his wrist, "You wanted a clue. I think this is a good place to start."

Brian smirked. "Seems we're playing a game of 'Follow the Queen'."


	4. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer:**** All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.**

**Chapter Four**

Ted shifted awkwardly in his seat as he glanced almost desperately up and down the hospital corridor. He wanted so badly to leave the public area, where he was receiving strange and uncomfortable looks over the tattoo that was inked on his face and, with no way to cover it, he had no way to hid the obvious tattoo. He wanted to leave, but he refrained. Not only because this was about something that had happened to his closest friend, but because he needed to know what had happened to them last night, and this was the first step.

Alleghany Hospital wasn't that far from the hotel – perhaps a couple of minutes – and was pretty easy to find, especially since the Jeep was still in perfect condition (much to Brian's happiness and relief). Emmett had entered the public hospital, flame glowing bright as he flounced over to the receptionist and politely asked the woman about the hospital band. The woman didn't even look at the band for more than a couple of seconds before she smiled pleasantly and announced that he had been expected, and that they should take a seat until Dr. Chambers was free to consult them.

That had been two hours ago.

"It can't be much longer now, can it?" Ted questioned.

"There's not much that any of us can do but wait," Michael answered calmly, as he bounced a giggling Jim in his lap. He'd been completely immersed in the baby and his presence since they had arrived. He probably wasn't even aware of how much time had pasted since he had started playing that stupid baby game.

"But I want to know what happened to me know," Emmett whined.

"And you will," a female voice spoke. The group looked up to see a smiling African American woman, hands deep in the pockets of her white coat. "Good morning Gentleman, sorry to keep you waiting."

"Say that to my numb fucking ass," Brian muttered, standing up.

She arched an eyebrow in amusement, before continuing, "I'm Dr. Daphne Chambers. Have you come for your check-up Mr. Honeycutt?"

"Check up?" he appeared alarmed.

Daphne hummed. "Yes, you received a rather serious concussion last night, caused by a powerful full hit. That bruise will be on your face for awhile, unfortunately. As with all our concussion patients, we asked that they returned for a check-up the day after their release." A concerned look crossed her young face, "Do you not remember anything, Mr. Honeycutt?"

"It's not just Honeycutt," Brian replied, "None of us remember anything that happened last night so if you could be of any assistance, it would be greatly appreciated. We're, ah…we've lost someone…"

"The blond?" Daphne nodded, "I remember her. Very clingy to my patient I remember – motherly would be a better word, maybe. I definitely don't remember a baby though…"

Michael chuckled nervously, positioning Jim against his chest. "It's kind of complicated…"

"It's not my business to ask," Daphne finally answered, "You'd be surprised what we get through those doors. I'll help you anyway I can, but I still have to give Mr. Honeycutt a quick once over, just to be sure. If you wouldn't mind, follow me…"

**THEHANGOVERQAFSTYLE**

"It was about midnight, maybe, when you were brought in. You and your friends there came stumbling in, drunk and as high as a kite; you were bleeding across the clean floors. I was on call at Accident and Emergency last night – you were my last patient before I left for the night."

Daphne retold their arrival at the hospital, her attention focused on inspecting the bumps and bruises on Emmett's head. Her fingers were probing and firm, causing Emmett to wince on occasion when they pressed against a particularly sensitive area on his scalp.

"According to what you told me, there some kind of fight at a casino – um, Weeping Dragon I think. You, Mr. Honeycutt, were adamant that someone had cheated you out of $700 and you had demanded it back. My guess is, whoever this cheat was, they gave you this _beautiful_ shiner. To be honest, I didn't quite believe it I'll be honest with you, but I had to have something to put in the files, you know. You're missing friend, that blond woman – she became obsessed with that I was doing. She said that she wanted to make sure you were taken care of or something, that some doctor's were arrested for malpractice and she didn't want you to be a victim, or something like that. Is your friend always a paranoid drunk?"

"Not since College," Brian laughed darkly.

"Well, whatever happened back then came back with vengeance last night." Daphne shook her head. She pulled away from Emmett and smiled at him, "That's it, Mr. Honeycutt. You don't seem to have any lasting damage as far as I can tell. I would suggest that if you experience any dizzy spells or nausea in the next 24 hours to come back here, just to be certain." She hesitated for a moment, "There is also something I want to talk to you about…"

Emmett slid of the bed slowly, eying the doctor closer. "What is it?"

"…When you came in, we did a standard blood test – not something that's easy to do on an intoxicated person, believe me – and we, um, got the results back this morning…" Daphne picked up the brown folder she had laid on her desk when they entered the room and opened it up across her arm, her eyes scanning the pages, "According to this, there was a large amount of Ruphylin in your system."

"Ruphylin?"

Daphne nodded. "Commonly known as Roofies, or the Date-Rape drug."

Emmett looked terrified. "Does that mean…I was…?"

She smiled reassuringly at him. "Not according to these results, Mr. Honeycutt, but I would still be worried. After all, you've already told me you don't recall anything that happened last night."

"But who would drug us?" Michael wondered.

"Dr. Crystal!" Ted blurted in realisation.

Daphne appeared confused. "Um, I'm sorry? Who's 'Doctor Crystal'?"

Brian gave her a strained smile. "Don't worry about Theodore, Daphne; he has a tendency of shouting out names when he remembers something. We were thinking of getting him some help for it, but we haven't had the time recently. Do you remember anything else for last night?"

"Maybe something we said or something you found on us?" Michael added.

Daphne pondered in silence for a moment. "Um, I think I heard you mentioning some strip club you were going to go to. Apparently you had a card from your hotel's lobby."

"Boy Toy?" Brian supplied, remembering the card in his pocket.

She smiled at him. "Yes, that was it. You and your friends had a vote on whether or not to go and my guess is that you won." She closed the folder and leant back against her table, "I'd go there next gentleman, if I were you."

"Thank you, Dr. Chambers…" Emmett smiled weakly.

"No problems, I'm glad I could help. I hope you find your friend."

"So do we…" Ted muttered as they left the medical room.

**THEHANGOVERQAFSTYLE**

"Roofies? I took _fucking Roofies_!" Emmett exclaimed the second they exited the automatic doors of Alleghany Hospital. He was stomping ahead of them, furiously making his way to the parked Jeep.

"It was Dr. Crystal, I know it," Ted muttered.

"What about Dr. Crystal, Theodore?" Brian asked, his eyes narrowed, "Because I don't remember asking you to get my prescription from that _fucking tweaked out queen_!"

"I got it from Anita, just like you told me too," Ted answered annoyed, "But Crystal was there. He and Anita had some fight when I got there. She threw the bag at me, saying you'd already called ahead, and he smirked at me. I swear he told me to 'be careful' before they carried on fighting."

"And you didn't think that was fucking strange thing for that asshole to say?" Brian fought back.

"Crystal is dick, we already know that. He's said crap like that before, just to mess with people's heads," Ted retorted, "My guess is he messed with all of Anita's orders."

Michael stepped closer to his two friends, half way standing between them just in case Brian attacked the accountant (if the look on his face gave him away). "Really guys, no is not the time for this fight. Now, we know why we don't remember anything. We now know Dr. Crystal is fucking with Anita's business, which we can't really confirm nor do anything about while we're on the other side of fucking America. And now we have another lead – this Boy Toy place."

"And on the plus side, at least we know it was a spiteful mistake other than some creepy perverted guy at the back of a bar that decided to gang rape us," Emmett supplied, leaning against the car.

"Because that actually makes a fucking difference," Brian snarled in frustration, "We still don't fucking remember anything. Lindsey is still missing. We still have a fucking baby, who by the way is probably a missing child or something."

He opened the car with some force, climbing into the front seat and slamming the door loudly. He seethed silently in his place as he waited for his friends to slow (_too fucking slowly_ in his opinion) to get into the Jeep, his hands poised tightly on the steering wheel. His phone buzzed in his pocket and he realised a curse, for no real reason, as he raised his hips and pulled the phone from his jean pocket. He gazed down at the bright screen and his eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

"Who the fuck is Justin?"


	5. Chapter 5

**Disclaimer:**** All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.**

**Chapter Five**

'Boy Toy' was exactly how they expected it to be. Even in the late afternoon, it was lit up with strobe lights and neon bars and young men dancing on pedestals or in cages, some wearing cotton underwear and a few in nothing by angel's wings. The place was already filled with dancers and horny men of all ages, shapes and sizes. People turned to eye them as they entered.

Michael shifted Jim, who had fallen asleep during the car journey, and hugged him clear nervously. Silently, he wished he'd agreed to stay in the Jeep when Emmett had suggested it.

Brian's face remained impassive, uncaring, as he stared into the room. Although he was supposed to be concentrating on what was before him – he couldn't remember help being distracted. The text from the unknown 'Justin' had thrown him through a loop. It was such a simple message, just asking where he had disappeared to, but his body had reacted so strongly. His heart lurched; his palms were sweaty; his mouth became dry. He hadn't replied but, God, did he want to. Even now his fingers twitched. He shook his head firmly, as if to shake the thought. _Shit, what the fuck is wrong with me?_ He never acted like this before and over someone he couldn't even remember? It was fucking ridiculous. Squaring his shoulders, he purposely pushed all thoughts of the text and this Justin to the back of his mind when a man, who had eyed them when they entered, sighed with annoyance.

The man was a fair bit older than the dancers, maybe nearing his 40s. He was adorned in a suit – a cheap designer knock-off, Brian noted with distaste – which made him stand out among the bright lights and naked bodies. It wasn't something that one would normally wear in a dance/strip club. He had deep imbedded wrinkles, probably from years of heavy drinking and less-than-legal drugs, which were made more prominent because the man was scowling at them.

"What are you assholes doing here?" he demanded. He nodded towards Brian, "Are you planning to steal another one of my dancers?"

Brian frowned. "Who the _fuck_ are you?"

"Yes, I'm sure none of you remember, you were so shit faced last night. I'm Sam, I own this place. Now, if you don't mind, I have a lot of work to do so could you do my business a favour and fuck off?"

"Just wait a minute," Ted urged quickly, "What are you talking about? You see, we can't remember anything that happened last night-"

"Apparently, we took Roofies," Emmett grumbled, his arms folded across his chest, still going through his queen-out after finding out about the drug in his system. It was clear he was going to be holding onto this for a while.

"Yeah, and we're looking for our friend," Michael added.

"So if you could be of any help, we will gladly, uh, fuck off," Ted finished almost pleadingly.

Sam eyed each of them suspiciously in turn as if trying to determine whether or not they were lying or not, just to piss him off. He seemed to believe them, because he breathed out heavily through his nose and rested on the raised platform (a brunet dancer glanced towards them briefly before continuing to dance around the pole, his attention now focused on the paying customers).

He glanced at Michael. "Your friend…blond chick, sort of posh fit?"

He nodded eagerly. "That would be here...I think."

Sam looked thoughtful. "She was here. You all got here about two, three this morning. You said you were celebrating a wedding or something, paid for the special treatment, so I sent in Diane – for your lady friend – Todd and Justin."

Brian's head snapped towards the owner. "Justin?"

Sam smirked. "Yeah, Justin; he's my best dancer." The man's smile dropped, "_was_ my best dancer, until last night. You spent the night with the three of them in the V.I.P lounge. At about five, you all came out. You," he gestured towards Brian, "had your hands on him, everywhere, like possessively. You came up to me, declared your love for that fucking blond twink; said he was going with you and not to expect him back. I fought back, obviously – I need my dancers – but you were determined, threatening to fight me for him and Justin, the little shit, just calmly said he was leaving, that it would best not to fight it." He let out a sharp laugh, "He should know better than to leave with a client who's absolutely shitfaced but now that I think about it, the boy always seemed to read too many of that fucking _Mills and Boons_ shit." He shook his head, "Anyways, after that, you all left together as far as I could tell." He shrugged, "I wasn't there for most of the night so I can't say anything more helpful."

Sam dismissed them with a wave of his hand, turning his back on them to pay attention to the brunet dancer once more, and resting his arms across the clipboard that had been resting behind him.

"You got an address?" Brian demanded, reaching out to grab his arm tightly.

Sam glared down at the grip and tried to shake it off. He tightened his hold, and the man's face darkened.

"Yeah, I got an address. He lives on the corner of get a map and fuck off," Sam spat, "Why should I help you anymore than I already have?"

Brian smiled coldly, tilting his head slightly. "Think of it this way. The faster you give us that address, the faster you'll see my ass as I leave this fucking place."

Sam tried to stare him down through narrowed eyes, something he didn't back away from. Then the owner sighed, inclining his head over his shoulder to call, "Derek, get me Justin Taylor's home address. It should still be in the system."

A redhead looked up at his name and nodded, obediently disappearing behind a closed door into what was assumed to be the office. Brian watched him go and allowed Sam to rip his arm from his grip, lowering his arm slowly.

Sam muttered something that sounded suspiciously like _'I fucking hate Vegas tourists – shitfaced assholes…'_ all the while straightening his suit and resisting the urge to rub the spot on his arm. Brian smirked knowingly.

The redhead – Derek – approached his boss, reading the card over quickly before passing it over. Sam thanked him politely and handed it over between two fingers. Emmett accepted the card quickly, scanning the scrawled writing.

"There, you got the twink's address," Sam nodded, crossing his arms over his chest, "Now leave, and don't come back."

Brian saluted him mockingly. "Whatever you say _Sammy_,"

**QAFSTYLETHEHANGOVER**

So Justin was a dancer…in a club or used to be anyway until he came along. Brian locked his jaw and tightened his grip on the steering wheel. Shit, how did he get himself into these situations? He debated with the idea of giving up drugs and booze but, _yeah_, like that would ever happen, he enjoyed it too much. But still at this moment, when he had little idea what had happened the morning before other than he had apparently gotten all macho and territorial over some twink, he did have a good reason too. God only knows what he had done last night and, judging by what little they knew so far, it could be anything. But that isn't what annoyed him most. He could deal with not knowing exactly what had happened the night before – it had happened on occasion after he'd drunk, snorted and fucked the night away at Babylon – but it was his reaction to this twink he couldn't recall meeting.

Even while drunk and high, he had never once pulled a dancer from a stage and just decided that he was coming with him. He'd never put up a fight for someone before, especially not with their boss. More importantly, he had never been so desperate to know who somebody was in his life. Names of queers and breathers had been thrown around practically all his life, with both positive and negative reviews, but never had he felt this powerful urge to know _exactly_ who this person was, and everything about them. He was _Brian Fucking Kinney_, he didn't care about anyone – he'd been told it enough times that it was almost believable – so what made his Justin Taylor so fucking different?

Michael glanced at Brian uncertainly as he strapped Jim into the baby carrier they had found him in. The baby snuffed in his sleep before relaxing, giving his temporary carer the chance to divert his attention elsewhere. From the moment he had gotten that text in the hospital car park, Brian had been acting kind of odd. Nothing major, just subtle hints that Michael had come to notice as something his friend did when he didn't want to talk about something. Obviously it had something to do with this Justin kid – if it wasn't because he had asked who he was by name, the man's reaction to Sam talking about his missing dancer was a dead giveaway. He opened his mouth to question.

"Alright, what's this kid's address?" Brian asked, turning on the car's ignition.

Emmett rose up to pull the card from his pocket and settled down to read it. "Uh, 34D Victoria Avenue," he shrugged, "Any ideas?"

"Already on it," Ted mumbled, reading from the A-Z Atlas he had pulled from the glove compartment of the Jeep.

Michael closed his mouth, relaxing into the seat. Yes, it could wait and besides, he would get his answer soon enough.


	6. Chapter 6

**Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.**

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 6<strong>

It was an apartment complex about a fifteen minute drive away from BoyToy. It was a little rundown, obviously on the cheaper end of the housing market, with slightly chipped paint work and graffiti tags, but other than that it seemed like a nice place to live. The gang of four (and the baby) made their way to the fourth floor and carefully read every door number along the corridor until they found the number they were looking for.

"Here it is, 34D," Ted breathed out slowly, as they came to a standstill. No one moved to knock on the door, and he glanced between them curiously. "Um, guys?"

Sighing heavily, Brian hesitated for a moment before knocking loudly and firmly against the wooden door. Everything stilled for a moment, breath held, as they waited for the door to open.

"…Do you think anyone's home?" Emmett wondered aloud after a long period of silence.

There was a brief pause, followed by the sound of shuffled footsteps and locks being clicked loose. The door creaked quietly as it opened to reveal a half-asleep man. His black hair was a mess and it looked as if he needed to shave his goatee. He kept a firm grip on the door, already poised to close it, and eyed them all suspiciously, one by one. Silently, Brian prayed that _this_ wasn't Justin.

"Can I help you?" the man asked.

"Uh, yeah, are you Justin?" Michael spoke with a quick look up at his best friend.

The man's eyes narrowed slightly. "No, I'm Ethan."

"Well, can we speak to Justin?" Michael tried again.

It was clear from the look on his face that he didn't want them to speak to Justin, probably just wanted to slam the door in their faces, and he opened his mouth to reply. The words, however, were cut off by another voice in the background. It was softer, sounded younger even, and it made Brian stand up a little straighter.

"Who's at the door?"

Behind his sunglasses his eyebrows furrowed, he knew that voice; it sounded so familiar, yet unfamiliar. Unable to resist, he craned his neck to see the face that voice belonged to. A pale hand appeared in the crack in the doorway and it pushed the door open further, much to Ethan's dismay. By the doorframe, a face appeared. He was gorgeous, with long blond hair and sparkling blue eyes. Recognition appeared in his gaze and this breathtaking beam crossed his face. Even more so, it seemed to widen (if that was even possible) when those wide oceanic orbs landed on Brian. He took of his sunglasses to get a better look.

"Brian!" he exclaimed with an almost dizzying excitement, "What are you doing here? I was just getting ready to come back to your hotel room?" Fortunately for Brian, his attention shifted to the man beside him, "Ethan, these are the guys I told you about, remember?"

"Yes, I remember…" he grumbled.

"Let them in then," Justin ordered with a confused tone.

Ethan hesitated for a moment before releasing a defeated sigh and swung the door open. It hit the wall beside it with a bang. He seemed completely oblivious to it as he spun on his heel and disappeared around a sharp corner.

Justin frowned slightly. "Sorry about him. Come on in."

Each man smiled at the blond as they entered, curiously taking in the surroundings. The walls were scattered with artwork, some canvas and some framed but all brilliantly done. Solemnly, Emmett thought that Lindsey would love this.

Brian shut the door to the apartment carefully behind him and had barely turned around before he had an armful of blond. He looked surprised for a moment at the smiling face of the younger man and then felt lips upon his. Automatically, he responded, eyes fluttering shut and tightening his grip on the thighs that were wrapped so deliciously around him. He didn't think about what he was doing, he just responded instinctively. The blond's lips were addictive, tasting so delicious and feeling so soft, that it was impossible for him to pull away of his own accord, even once he realised what he was doing. Someone cleared their throat and both pulled away from each other after a delayed pause, glancing towards the rest of the room. Michael looked completely amused as he cradled the sleeping child gently; Ted looked on with an almost bittersweet amusement of the situation; Emmett looked gleefully happy at the display.

Justin flushed pink across his cheeks and glanced towards Brian, biting his bottom lip impishly. With a wiggle of his hips, Brian reluctantly released him, only completely letting go when feet touched the floor. He fixed his clothes and ran a hand through his hair.

"So where's Lindsey?" he asked, his voice still a tad breathless.

The faces of the four men dropped noticeable and Justin frowned, his eyes slowly scanning each man. There was a tense pause before he spoke again, his voice hesitant, almost as if he was expecting the worst.

"What happened?"

Emmett sighed. "Look, sweetie, we have no idea what happened to us last night. Apparently, some one slipped us Roofies last night and, well, it's only been a couple of hours already we've found out a lot of crazy shit."

"Like Emmett getting into a fight and ending up in hospital," Ted supplied.

"And we haven't even found out about the baby yet," Michael added, "Lindsey's missing, we have no idea where she's gone or what's happened to her, so we're retracing our steps to see if we can figure it out and…well, our search lead us to you."

A downhearted look replaced the thoughtful look. He shuffled from foot to foot awkwardly, staring at his feet. Brian hadn't said anything; he just continued to watch the smaller blond was an unreadable look. Justin looked up briefly, enough that Brian could see the sadness and, what he thought was, expectance in his once shining gaze. He rolled his jaw slightly, trying desperate to tell himself that he didn't care that he was the one who caused that pain.

"You guys…don't remember anything…" he started, "so you don't remember the wed…getting married, at all…"

It wasn't a question, it was a statement, but still Brian felt that he should answer.

"I'm sorry…" he whispered.

The blond took in a deep breath and forced a small smile to his face as he lifted his head in a show of confidence; that it didn't hurt as much it really did. "No, it's fine, really." He assured, "Stuff like this happens all the time in Vegas, you'd be surprised how often really. I should have expected it. I mean, really, as if a guy like you would want to marry a…" he shook his head firmly, "No, it doesn't matter. Um, so is there anything I can do to help?"

"If you wouldn't mind, maybe you could tell us about what happened last night?" Emmett smiled comfortingly.

Justin nodded firmly. "Of course, sit down, please." He took a seat and looked thoughtful, "Well, you guys came into the club at two – that's when my shift started – and Sam sent me straight into the VIP room with Todd and Diane. It was the usual routine really – lap dances, drinks on tab and, if agreed, blowjobs – but you guys were really talkative, if you know what I mean. You actually wanted to hold a conversation with the three of us, which was a nice chance to be honest. Um, you told me Lindsey was getting married to a woman named Mel, that this was your bachelor party of sorts," he paused and glanced towards Brian out of the corner of his eye, focusing attention towards him as he spoke, "You asked me about dancing and whether it was what I wanted to do. I told you I wanted to be an artist and you commissioned me to draw something for Lindsey's wedding gift – it's not finished yet, but should be soon so you'll get your money's worth, don't worry."

"So how did you two…decide to get married?" Ted pressed.

The blond flushed. "Uh, it was stupid really. Brian kept complimenting me, about everything, and then sort of announced that if he wanted to, he'd want to marry someone like me. Emmett sort of agreed with him and told him that he should do it before someone else did and well, I guess that was it. He got down on one knee and everything – gave me this."

Justin held out his left hand to centre of the room to show off his wedding ring. Brian's eyes widened as he recognized the gold band of his Grandfather's ring on the blond's finger. Although he hadn't exactly had the best of relations with his family, his Grandfather had been the only person he could actually stand for a long period of time. When the old man had died, he gave Brian the ring and, for reasons unknown to him, he had kept it zipped up in his wallet since that day. Just the sight of it on the boy's finger made his heart thud unevenly, and he dared not think about why.

Ted whistled. "Looks like you were pretty serious about this Bri."

Brian shot the man a dark glare and Justin cleared his throat awkwardly. He snapped his hand back almost protectively to his chest.

"It was obviously bad judgement on my part to say yes – Sam told me well enough when we were leaving, but…" he shrugged with fake indifference, "Um, the wedding was at the Little Chapel, not far from BoyToy. It was nice, simple I guess."

"Where did we go after that?" Michael questioned.

Justin shrugged. "I'm not sure. You, Michael, said that you had someone you had to go see urgently and that it couldn't wait. So Brian let you drive the Jeep."

A look of realisation came to his face and he leant forward in his seat, not even noticing Jim's whimper at the sudden movement. "Was it to see a guy? Did you see him?"

Justin looked thoughtfully. "…Yeah, I think it was actually. But sorry, no, I didn't see him. Brian and I…well, we were consummating our marriage in the backseat of the Jeep."

Michael stood up quickly. "That's fine Justin, great in fact. I know where we went next." He moved swiftly towards the door. The gang stood up, each voicing their concerns and wonders of what happened next, but the comic loving man didn't respond. He merely paused long enough to say, "Hurry up!"

* * *

><p>"Mikey, seriously, answer the fucking question!" Brian demanded.<p>

"Just trust me," Michael muttered, rushing to buckle Jim into his chair seat. The baby blinked up at him with wide brown eyes. The comic loving man whispered something to the child that no one could hear before placing a swift kiss to his forehead. He moved around and climbed into the driver's seat. He paused, glancing out the open window to his friends, who were standing there, waiting for an explanation.

"Come on," he urged, "I'll explain when we get there, I promise."

There was a moment of thoughtful and reluctant hesitation before Ted huffed and climbed into his seat. Emmett followed quickly and, another second later, Brian was opening the passenger seat door. Michael turned on the engine.

"Wait!"

The four men stopped and glanced towards the complex in time to see Justin, slightly flushed from running in the sun, approach the side of the car. He leant against the driver's seat window and smiled pleadingly.

"Let me help you find Lindsey," he requested, "please?"

There was a pause and everyone glanced to Brian for approval. The man met Justin's eyes briefly and quickly replaced his sunglasses. "Sure, why not?"

Justin beamed brightly.


End file.
